


The Warrior Bond

by Tarlan



Series: Only One [2]
Category: Highlander (1986 1991 1994 2000 2007)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-29
Updated: 2005-10-29
Packaged: 2017-10-12 23:01:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/130068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katana has to deal with the bond inflicted upon him by MacLeod.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Warrior Bond

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Deutsch available: [Kriegerliebe](https://archiveofourown.org/works/130070) by [Tarlan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan)



Connor MacLeod leaned across the bed and smoothed away the dark hair that lay across the sleeping face. He traced the outline of the heavy scar that ran across the left temple wondering how the other could have gained such a mark. He, himself, had felt the cut of many swords and, recently, the penetration of more than a hundred bullets yet there were no scars on his body.

He sighed. There was still so much he needed to learn about his own people. When he killed the Kurgan, all those years before, he hadn't expected to have to fight again, but then the Magician had appeared. Spending most of the past centuries in a perpetual state of death from asphyxiation within the cave in which he had become trapped, had made it appear that Connor MacLeod was the last of his kind still walking upon the Earth, but then, one day, MacLeod had cut his hand and it had healed before his eyes... and he knew. Even so, it was only since he took the head of the Magician to, finally, become The One that he had started to remember a former existence on a hot desert planet.

Even though he was now revitalized with the Quickenings of Katana's assassins, still, only snatches of memory came to him; mostly in the form of dreams.

As he sat on the side of the bed, staring at the strong profile, he remembered how it had all seemed to begin with the comrade bond he formed with Ramirez in the wreckage of what he now realized must have been a spacecraft. Until that moment he had been just one warrior among the many who had answered the call to arms. He could remember his shock at being singled out by Ramirez as the one who would lead the rebellion. He had glanced around as all eyes turned to him, not believing the sword was pointing at *him*. He recognized many who, in his opinion, were far more worthy of that honor; great warriors, wise men, *older* brethren. To many he would appear a mere stripling, a child, barely a century old... for he was one of the last to be born.

He frowned as he recalled the method by which he had become one with Ramirez, dipping his fingers into the golden, incandescent liquid, wondering what it was and where it had come from. The power, the Quickening, that surged between their facing palms had rippled through his nerve endings in a far more subtle way than he had since experienced through the taking of a head. There was no explosive force, no screaming of his nerve endings, just a gentle hum that suffused his entire being.

His leadership had been short-lived - or so it had seemed at the time. Barely had the Quickening between them dissipated before the cry went up that General Katana's forces were attacking; they had been betrayed.

He recalled the battle plans that were hastily drawn up but Katana's forces were waiting in ambush, his men vastly outnumbering the 'rebels'. Connor had fought and then fled with what remained of his tattered army only see them cut down and beheaded, one by one, until only he and Ramirez were left standing among the bloodied, headless corpses; circling around them, the thousands that made up Katana's forces.

It was the eerie silence that he remembered most as his eyes swept the sea of mocking faces but then a soft and distant murmuring had started, gradually rising as the sea parted. He had walked, head held high, by Ramirez' side, through the warrior-lined channel that opened before them and closed behind them, until they had reached the other side. *He* had been waiting there. Connor had seen Katana's face a thousand times on the monitor screens; had stood enthralled by the power exuding from this man even as he abhorred the despotic methods he used to rule this world, but those images had paled against the reality. Katana's face had been flushed with victory, dark eyes shining, full lips slightly parted and glistening. His breath had been quickened by the exhilaration of a battle fought well... and won. He had looked magnificent and, at this sight, Connor MacLeod had finally recognized the tendrils of something other than hatred that had wrapped themselves around his senses.

Connor remembered the night after their defeat at Katana's hand where he had lain chained but rebellious in the Zeist leader's rooms, high in the ancient fortress. Katana had entered, his black leather clad form sauntering into the cell, still exuding power and confidence. Only his anger, barely held in check as he countered Katana's crows of victory with his own denouncements, had prevented him from drowning in the desire that, suddenly, swept over him.

Yes. His unbidden - and unwanted - attraction to the dark warrior, that had started decades before as he gazed up at the powerful figure on a view screen, had grown stronger still once he confronted the man in person, but the knowledge of that desire had been lost during his transportation to Earth.

MacLeod sighed anew as he wondered what methods the priests had used to revert his mind and form into the semblance of a human baby; a changeling. He wondered again at what 'magic' ensured that he would meet his first death in the same physical condition that he had been exiled from Zeist. Obviously, Katana and his assassins had not been processed the same way for they had arrived with full knowledge of who and what they were. A small smile curved the corner of his mouth.

"Perhaps the priests played no part in your arrival on Earth." Katana moaned softly but remained asleep. "Is this why you do not wish to return?"

MacLeod watched the rise and fall of the smooth, broad chest as his thoughts drifted back to that first morning after he had bested Katana in combat, and had taken him as warrior mate. When he had invited his new mate to return with him to Zeist, Katana had pulled back, fear clouding the dark eyes. He knew this warrior had many dark secrets but, despite having the power to reach into his bonded mate's mind, MacLeod was loath to destroy the small flicker of trust that was steadily growing between them. Instead, Katana had asked for time to get used to his new position in life. For the passed five hundred years he had been the ruler of his own destiny but now he was little more than a slave. Connor MacLeod realized that he had become master of Katana's life and his soul when he took the quickening but not the head of the defeated warrior. It was a request MacLeod felt compelled to honor if he wanted to gain more than this man's trust.

He paused on that thought. What more did he want?

Love?

MacLeod closed his eyes briefly as the word and the emotion it invoked spun around his mind, igniting a passion that had been all but forgotten over the centuries, but that had flared back into life when he had completed the ritual bonding. He studied the sleeping face, silently cursing his own moralistic attitude. The Kurgan would have seized the mind of this man without compunction, laying it open before him, raping it of every thought, but then, the Kurgan had been no more than an animal with no desire but to rule, to control... to dominate and possess; wanting merely to show his superiority over all other beings. In complete contrast, MacLeod did not want to dominate this man; he wanted them to be equals. He wanted Katana to look upon him with the same love and desire that filled his own heart as he gazed upon his mate.

Another sigh left him as he watched his bonded warrior begin to stir.

Ebony eyes opened to face a new day, a tiny smile playing about the soft lips as the warm sunlight touch his features. The smile widened as the dark gaze met the deep blue of the watcher but then dimmed as recognition reached the sleepy mind.

MacLeod's eyes lowered in disappointment as the other turned away from him, but then he raised them to study the strong profile of the man who had reigned over Zeist for more than 700 Earth years.

"I thought we would go to the Museum of Art today."

Katana sneered but MacLeod knew it was just a reflex. He had dragged the reluctant man to several cultural centers over the past two weeks and had noticed the way the other appreciated beauty when he thought MacLeod's attention had been diverted away from him, despite his protestations that such places were only for fools and dreamers. It was a far cry from the Katana he thought he knew... but not unwelcome.

MacLeod rose from the bed and drifted to the far corner of the room to give Katana a little privacy.

****

As Katana pulled on dark denim jeans he glanced furtively at the younger man. Centuries ago MacLeod had warned him the people of Zeist were waiting for him to become careless. Well, the day he had, foolishly, come to Earth to kill Connor MacLeod, was the day he fulfilled that particular prophecy. It was a carelessness borne of complacency - and a desire to erase the one being that had managed to invade his every waking thought and dream for over five hundred years. The strength of his passion for MacLeod had confused him from the day he first set eyes on the younger warrior. But why? He had pondered over this during those centuries. Was it merely physical? Was there something about the wide-spaced, penetrating blue eyes... or the soft, almost sibilant voice. Was it the tall, muscular frame or the man's obvious mastery of the sword; the deft way he had countered and parried a path through a dozen of Katana's men while the General watched from a higher vantage point... or was it the proud bearing and intelligence of this man? Even in defeat Connor MacLeod had stood up to him, needing nothing more than words to cut him in a dozen places.

Katana knew it was not a single one of these but a mixture of all.

He cursed himself. After nearly five centuries he had learned that Connor MacLeod was the last of his people on Earth and, as the priests had ordained, MacLeod would have the choice of returning to Zeist or growing old on Earth. Katana had waited to see what that choice would be and was surprised when MacLeod had made no attempt to return. So why had he sent the assassins, especially those two incompetent fools?

A small voice inside his head whispered an answer he didn't wish to hear but Katana knew it was the truth. If he had waited a few more years then Connor MacLeod would have died... and Katana realized that part of him would have died with the other warrior. His subconscious had sent two fools to be slaughtered; two Quickenings to revitalize the aging shell of the man he... desired. Deep down he *knew* they would die and, deep down, he *knew* he would find some excuse to enter Connor MacLeod's life once more.

He had assumed that seeing the man after all these centuries would extinguish the fire and he would then be freed from these unwanted emotions but the converse had proven true. Living in such close proximity for the passed two weeks had only served to inflame his soul until he found it next to impossible to push the erotic thoughts away. Silently, he prayed he had not given away his deepest and darkest secret to this man - the fact that he had become fixated with Connor MacLeod five centuries ago on a far off world.

Katana caught sight of himself in the dressing table mirror and his heart slumped in his chest. He could think of nothing that would attract the younger warrior to himself. His hair, once long and flowing, was roughly trimmed short until there was not even enough left to tie back. He raised his left hand and studied the scar that ran from elbow to knuckle with the same discoloration as the one across his left temple. Both had been obtained at the same time - their presence a constant reminder of his unworthiness. He shrugged on the dark t-shirt and looked up to find eyes full of... Katana wanted to believe it was lust he saw shining in the blue depths but he convinced himself it was merely the satisfaction of conquest... or pity.

****

It started with a simple question as they gazed upon the 'Monarch of the Glen' but the ensuing discussion brought forth the finest experience of their joint lives. MacLeod smiled as he watched his warrior mate study the beautiful landscape of open heath filled with the hazy lilac and purple of wild heather. In the center stood a proud stag, its head raised in defiance as it stood its ground before the hunter.

The memory of seemingly endless stretches of barren earth and sand tumbled through his mind and MacLeod realized how rich his experiences upon this planet had made him. On Zeist, there were few creatures living within the barren land so Katana could not have experienced many of the wonders MacLeod took for granted. It made him wonder which, of the two of them, had truly been blessed. His exile may have left Katana ruling a desert world but it had left *him* centuries traveling through an ever changing panorama of hot deserts, cold tundras, grassy plains and thick rain forests. He had scaled ice-capped mountains and walked through heather-filled glens yet even the landscape had been overshadowed by the rich variety of customs and languages he had discovered in the humans he had met and loved.

The Highlander drew closer to the other man, feeling the warmth radiating from the stockier frame and sensing a pleasant companionship as he shared this world with his chosen one. They moved on to the next painting with renewed enthusiasm, sharing each other's insight into what they believed they saw in each new piece. MacLeod gasped in astonishment as he recognized the small figure of Ramirez standing behind the King of Spain, wondering why he had not come across this painting before. He turned to share this new discovery, eyes alight with pleasure but his face creased up in bewilderment as the dark eyes hardened, the shields snapping back into place.

"He was my teacher but, much more than that, he was my friend. When the Kurgan killed him I believed I had lost him for all time but..."

"If you are bonded to him then why do you need me? No. Don't answer. I know already."

The blue eyes narrowed in puzzlement at the harsh tone and MacLeod paused in stunned confusion as the other spun on his heel and stormed out of the exhibition hall. He could not understand Katana's reaction, after all, Ramirez was dead. He had given his life to buy time for Connor to destroy the shield that enclosed the Earth. Connor sighed. He remembered Ramirez saying that all he had to do was call his name and he would come. It seemed to have happened once before but Connor had been calling steadily for the past two weeks and Ramirez had not returned. Eventually, he had accepted that this time there would be no return. The magic was gone.

He turned back to stare at the painting that had brought their pleasure to an abrupt end, his eyes alighting on the man he had called 'friend'. He bowed his head in disappointment and then turned to follow the other man. It did not take long to find Katana yet he paused some distance away, watching in sadness as the other slumped onto a bench in the beautiful grounds of the Gallery. MacLeod was left wondering what he could do to convince the warrior of his true feelings.

****

Katana sighed as he sank onto the cold, stone bench. For a moment in the Art gallery he had convinced himself Connor MacLeod felt something more than mere pity for him but the look of pleasure as the younger man had laid eyes on Ramirez had cut him to the soul. Katana provided his own reason for why MacLeod would want to take him as warrior mate when he had already bonded with another; Power. MacLeod needed to prove he had the capability to rule Zeist and what better way was there than to take back the former leader as a prize, a trophy to be held up for ridicule.

He took in a deep breath as he realized how cruel the Fates had been. Even death was preferable to the future that lay stretched out before him, but he knew MacLeod would never release him without good cause.

As he sat, alone and miserable, on the stone bench, Katana recalled the stories told to him in his far distant youth about the spacecraft; how the colony ship of 2000 colonists plus 86 crew had crashed on Zeist.

Katana's father had been the ship's security officer. They had no communications and had flown so far off course it was doubtful they would ever be found. Tingesner, his father, had taken control after a power struggle, killing the Captain. He took another man's wife and she bore him children. Time had passed but no-one had seemed to grow older, except for the children, and even they had stopped aging once they reached maturity. However, most of these children were sterile. Finally, Tingesner had decreed that the original female colonists must bear more and more children. Gradually the population had swelled until the world contained thousands more.

Other things were discovered, the most important of which was the source of their immortality; the power of the Quickening.

Katana sneered at the forgetfulness of his people. His father had ruled Zeist with a kid glove that hid a grip of steel. The so-called peace bought with the blood of a thousand living corpses. His heart sank further as he remembered the way his father had quelled each uprising by warrior-bonding with the defeated leader and disposing of them once their usefulness had ceased. He had vowed never to treat another creature in that manner - better to see it dead than humiliated before the whole of the world.

The ebony eyes darkened further as he recalled other memories. Tingesner had allowed no-one other than himself to behead another and would kill the innocent along with the guilty in order to take their life-force, thereby increasing his own power. Although Katana was his first born son, he had been as much a slave to his father as the emasculated warriors that his father had paraded to the people but, unlike those warriors, his mind had been free and he was intelligent enough to allow Tingesner to believe that he was a loyal servant... right up until the day he took his father's head.

Katana studied the deeply scarred tissue of his left hand. He had destroyed his father over seven centuries ago yet he could still see the stunned disbelief in the dark eyes, so like his own, as the heavy sword arced towards that vulnerable neck. It was a backlash of the Quickening that had scarred him. The jolt of all the power his father had possessed through centuries of beheading others was almost too great for his virgin form to contain.

Yes, his father had been a cruel man who deserved the fate he had received and Katana had taken his place as Leader.

He laughed, softly, as he remembered telling MacLeod that peace was highly overrated. At least he had been honest in his reign -not hiding the assassinations, the executions and the truth behind honeyed words. He frowned. MacLeod's memories of Zeist and its history had been distorted by five centuries of exile. All he knew were the early years when Katana had been openly aggressive as he sought to consolidate his claim to leadership but Zeist was a harsh, unforgiving world of desert and rock where the strong ruled over the weak in the fight for quality of life - if not life itself, and the people of Zeist were as harsh and unforgiving as the planet.

The once proud head bowed in shame, his errant imagination already envisaging the reception he would gain from his former subjects. His mouth tightened in determination. He would not be exhibited to the populace of Zeist in the same manner as the long dead warriors who had been paraded by his father like castrated catamites. The quick mind that had kept him in power for so many centuries assimilated all the facts and a small sardonic smile lifted the corners of his mouth as a solution formed in his mind.

****

"I want to return to Zeist."

Connor MacLeod stared at the older warrior in bewilderment. Only yesterday, Katana had been almost begging him to let them stay on Earth a little longer yet now he wanted to return to their home world without further delay. His eyes narrowed as he gazed deep into the ebony depths trying to discover some ulterior motive.

"Why?"

"Zeist needs a ruler. I never meant to stay away this long."

MacLeod continued to stare at the other warrior, not quite believing the words, and yet unable to comprehend why he felt so ill at ease. He reached out and stroked one finger tip down the soft skin from temple to jaw, the light in his eyes fading as the other grew colder at his touch. MacLeod pursed his lips to hold back the words that spun around his mind and wondered how much longer it would take to convince Katana that his intentions were true. He wanted to possess the strong body, to sink into willing flesh that time would not decay. He had spent centuries watching lovers and friends fall beneath the marching feet of time, wanting someone with whom he could spend his eternity. Common sense said this someone ought to have been Ramirez, his friend and teacher, but his soul had claimed the scarred, dark-haired warrior long before that final confrontation in the Shield Generation chamber.

His eyes narrowed as he gazed at the older man. The bonding gave him the ability to capture his mate's thoughts but, once again, MacLeod dismissed that idea immediately. Katana was far too important to him. He swallowed hard, afraid any attempt to control the vibrant mind would lose Katana forever. He nodded, his mouth tightening as he acceded to the other's request.

MacLeod allowed the power within him to flow across the boundaries of space until his mind linked with the High Priest on Zeist. Moments later he felt an old yet strangely familiar energy lick through his body as the world around him dissolved. He threw his head back, his fists clenching, and took a deep gulp of air as he was released, his legs quivering with fatigue as they threatened to fold beneath him. A sideways glance brought a new weakness as his joy-filled eyes fell upon the huddled form of his bonded warrior, and he chuckled softly as he recognized the fear that had seized his heart as the first tingles of the return mechanism had danced along his nerve endings; his fear of returning to find an empty place in his soul where his mate had been torn away had been unfounded.

"Welcome, Highlander."

MacLeod's eyes widened and he spun round to meet the crooked smile of his old teacher.

"Ramirez? How...?"

The dark eyes twinkled beneath the graying eyebrows, as their hands clasped together.

"I told you, it's the magic."

MacLeod pulled the other into a full embrace, his soft laughter filling the cathedral-like room but he pulled back when he felt Ramirez stiffen in his arms. His eyes followed the cold gaze to where Katana stood, sword in hand wearing a triumphant grin, the unconscious body of one of the priests lying on the cold stone floor behind him.

Ramirez pushed MacLeod aside and faced the circling warrior. He grabbed a long metal candle holder in time to parry the first blow. Further blows followed in a frenzy as Ramirez was gradually pushed back towards the stone wall, the metal pole flipping from his grasp as the heavy sword twisted it away from his body. Ramirez froze as Katana raised the sword into position for the final swing that would sever his head from his body.

****

As the sword flew down towards the vulnerable neck, another arrested the motion and Katana smiled as he recognized the killing rage that filled the blue eyes. Katana carried on with the illusion by parrying and thrusting against his new adversary and then, before the anger had time to drain away, he allowed the momentum of another stroke to lift the heavy sword from his hand and he fell to his knees. He watched as MacLeod raised the sword and, in that last split second as the blade swooped towards him, he allowed his desire for Connor MacLeod to break free.

As the silence grew longer, the dark eyes narrowed in confusion. Had the blade been so sharp he had yet to feel the pain? His eyes still held MacLeod's but wandered away to where two hands firmly grasped the hilt, the sword held tightly in position at the end of its arc bare centimeters from his neck. He heard one of the priests shouting angrily.

"What are you doing? Finish it."

****

MacLeod lowered the sword and waited for the dark eyes to meet his own once more. They locked gazes, Katana's showing fear, MacLeod's full of cold anger. The Highlander smiled as shocked comprehension crossed the expressive face, his blue eyes narrowing as he stabbed into his warrior mate's mind, stripping thoughts from the defeated man. When finally he pulled back, the older man slumped and the cavernous room echoed with the sound of harsh sobbing. Katana raised a tear streaked face and, for the first time in his life, he begged.

"Finish it. Please."

His face fell at the soft shake of negation. MacLeod turned to his old friend.

"He... wants me, but believed I could not care for him... that I had already chosen you. He thought he was just a slave to be held up in ridicule..." MacLeod gazed down at the sobbing man "...and he didn't want to live long enough to feel that final shame, but knew only I could release him."

"Then that's why he attacked *me*."

MacLeod smiled as Ramirez showed that he had quickly worked out the flawless logic that Connor MacLeod had found swirling around the brilliant mind. Ramirez continued on.

"When he realized *we* were bonded, he also realized I would be regenerated when you returned to Zeist. He wanted to make you angry enough to take his head. Attacking me nearly accomplished that."

MacLeod knelt before the bowed figure as Ramirez became silent, one hand lifting the chin until his softened gaze fell upon the emotionally drained face.

"Only he couldn't resist releasing all the desire he felt for me, believing I was too angry and too uncaring to capture the thought in time to prevent the killing blow."

Ramirez stroked his gray speckled beard and turned towards the High Priest who had watched the entire scene in silence. The old priest nodded and MacLeod stiffened as he felt a tiny intrusion into his mind. He stared back at his friend and teacher in confusion when he could no longer sense Ramirez.

"I've dampened our link... for the time being. You still have much to learn, Highlander." He laughed softly. "Perhaps we both do, but this next lesson must be learned the hard way. I cannot teach you."

Connor MacLeod followed his gaze down to the huddled figure then turned back questioningly.

"When we first met I said you had a great destiny before you. Do you remember? And when we first bonded and I made you leader, you asked 'Where do we start?'. My reply was '*You* start with General Katana'. Well, time to begin. I will join you, in time."

His eyes widened as Ramirez winked at him, and then he blushed furiously as the meaning became clear. MacLeod guided the defeated warrior to his feet and half-carried him out into the long corridor, retracing the steps he had taken five centuries before until he came upon the room where the full realization of his desire for General Katana had begun.

****

MacLeod lay the emotionally and physically drained warrior on the soft coverings of a large bed. He could sense the half- slitted eyes that followed him as he wandered around the large room. He discarded the long raincoat and sat down on the edge of the bed, his own eyes studying the rise and fall of the broad chest beneath the thin cotton t-shirt before moving up to the tear-stained face. He tugged his own sweatshirt over his head and let the garment drop to the floor then reached down to remove both his and Katana's boots and socks. MacLeod paused to check the reaction from his companion, smiling when he noticed the fine trembling. He leaned over and pulled the dark t-shirt free from the denim until he could run his fingers beneath the material. His hand encountered warm, soft skin. He allowed his fingers to drift along the edge of the rib cage following the path upwards to the collar bone before descending, his sensitive palm registering the sparse hairs and the raised edge of a nipple. His eyes never leaving the expressive face.

MacLeod watched the dark lashes close and the sensuous mouth open as sensations flowed through their link to ignite both their passions. The head arched backwards exposing the vulnerable throat and MacLeod fell forward to cover this new offering with sharp bites and soft kisses. He reached behind the dark head, fingers tangling in soft hair and pulled the face back until his lips could claim the other's in a hungry kiss. The lips beneath his were soft and trembled with fear and pleasure. MacLeod thrust his tongue into the wet cavern, glorying in the possessiveness of the act while exploring the strong teeth and delicate inner wall. Finally, he pushed against the submissive, velvet softness of his lover's tongue, sensitive tips meeting before darting away.

MacLeod released the mouth and gasped to draw air into his starving lungs before gazing back into the flushed face lying beneath him.

"Have you figured it out yet?"

The Highlander laughed gently at the dawning realization in his bonded warrior's face, and eased his mind out along the quicksilver path to wrap his mate in a haze of pleasure and acceptance. His laughter resonated along the path eliciting a soft moan from his soon-to-be lover as the echo reverberated across the empty years to fill the void in mind and soul.

Katana swallowed hard but kept his gaze firmly glued to the bright, blue eyes above his. He *had* figured it out but still could not believe it was true, yet he had felt the link between MacLeod and Ramirez soften - had felt it dim in his own mind, unbroken but muted.

A hot mouth covered his again but this time Katana chose not to lay passive and arched up to crush their lips together, tongues battling savagely for supremacy. Strong arms encircled broad shoulders to draw their bodies ever closer and when finally they parted, Katana found his mind reeling with the ferocity of his own passion.

MacLeod sat back on his heels, knees either side of the firm, denim-clad thighs. He smiled at the wanton sight before him as Katana lay with dark t-shirt bunched up beneath his armpits and hair in disarray; the physical manifestation of MacLeod's lust apparent in the swollen lips and in the angry marks across the sensitive throat. As he watched, Katana wriggled to pull the dark t-shirt over his head. Katana held his breath as the Highlander reached forward to unbuckle the belt, release the fasteners and slowly lower the zip on the denim. MacLeod peeled back the opening to reveal a thatch of thick, dark hair leading deeper inside the black jeans. He moved to the side raising one eyebrow questioningly and Katana responded by lifting his hips to allow the Highlander to ease the denim down the strong thighs. A quick tug at each leg cuff and the jeans were quickly discarded, falling by the side of the bed.

MacLeod sat back up and gazed, openly appreciative, on the naked form lying quietly beside him. His eyes traveled from the dark eyes downward, lingering on the slightly parted kiss-swollen lips, the juncture of neck and shoulder where his earlier attentions had left a quickly fading marks until they reached the deep brown, flat disc of a nipple. He smiled as the skin crinkled under his hot scrutiny until the nipple stood out; a small part of him registering the quickening breath as the solid chest heaved under the intensity of the mental caresses that followed the path of MacLeod's eyes. Those lust-darkened, blue eyes moved lower, dancing along the flat stomach, watching the muscles quiver in response to his mental touch before they lowered further to follow the arrow of dark hair that began at the navel. Eventually, his eyes fell upon the thick column of rosy flesh, arching upwards towards him. His thoughts caressed the delicate skin and were rewarded by a small pearl of precome seeping from the tip and, in his peripheral vision, he saw Katana throw back his head, knuckles whitening as his hands gripped the soft covers. His own body felt alive for the first time in a century. His nerve endings tingling as a frisson of electricity danced through his body... so reminiscent of a Quickening... yet not as all consuming. His heart began to beat faster. He could sit back and look no longer. He needed to touch the warm flesh, to caress the sensitive skin, to taste. He reached out and allowed one finger to tease across the raised nipple, feeling it harden to a stiff point, his face lowering toward the other until...

****

Katana moaned, his head moving from side to side as a velvet tongue swirled around his nipple before it was engulfed in the heat and wetness of MacLeod's mouth. Sharp teeth scraped across the sensitive flesh while the other was rolled gently between a thumb and forefinger. He reached out, his fingers tangling in the long brown hair, not sure if he wanted to push the head away or pull it closer. He sobbed as the head moved away of its own volition then gasped as the mouth alternatively kissed and licked a path downwards. Katana held his breath in both dread and anticipation.

"Oh yes... yes..."

Wet heat descended upon his burning flesh, the flexible tongue swirling around the head, probing the slit and tasting the copious precome. He felt himself being taken deeper into that hot cavern, teeth lightly scraping the length of his cock and all thoughts of betrayal and rejection fled from his mind as he barely registered the fingers that caressed the tight sacs before gliding back towards the small puckered opening. One saliva-slicked finger rimmed the edge, gently pushing against the muscle in rhythm with the slow sucking. He relaxed and felt the finger penetrate, circling around, rubbing against the soft inside wall, gradually moving deeper until he could feel MacLeod's hand pressed against his body. The intensity on the sucking increased as the finger pulled halfway out only to be joined by another. Katana felt a jolt as the fingers brushed across a sensitive place deep inside him, his eyes flying open yet unseeing as the slowly building orgasm was overcome by the new stimuli and he cried out hoarsely as a warmth spread from the pit of his stomach along every nerve ending, taking him higher and higher until he reached the stars that were exploding inside his head.

MacLeod gave one final lick before moving up the strong body to take the other in a deep kiss, sharing the taste of his lover. He whispered softly.

"Turn over."

Katana's exhausted but satiated eyes met the lust-filled ones of his lover and he found himself turning onto his stomach. He raised his hips as a pillow was pushed underneath and then relaxed as saliva-wettened fingers returned to their earlier task of teasing the small opening. He pushed back as those fingers glided back inside, welcoming the intimacy. A third finger joined the others, working in unison to stretch and prepare. Katana moaned when the invaders pulled back but his muscles tightened at the feel of something large and blunt pushing against the still tight opening.

A tendril of thought caressed his mind, reassuring, loving and he relaxed only to cry softly into the pillow beneath him as the thick head of MacLeod's cock pushed through the tight virgin muscle.

MacLeod stilled all movement. He wanted this to be good for both of them. After a moment the muscle relaxed around him and he pushed in another inch, pulling Katana backwards onto his knees at the same time. He pulled out slowly, until only the bulbous head remained inside and then pushed in again a little more forcefully until another full inch was held. Again he stilled and then repeated the action over and over until with a final grunt of pleasure the whole of his length was held in that hot tight sheath of willing flesh. His hands spread across the hips, holding Katana in place as he rolled his own hips, luxuriating in the sensation of his balls pressed tightly against his lover's body. He reached out with his mind as he reached forward with his hand, feeding his lust into the other as he grasped the slowly thickening shaft. MacLeod pumped the organ slowly in time with his own thrusts into the yielding body, a smile of love and desire lighting his features as Katana began to push back against him, deepening the penetration. He changed the angle of his thrusts feeling the shaft in his hand jump and the muscles in Katana's ass tightened as his blunt cock dragged across his lover's prostate.

The sensation slowly building inside his body grew stronger, his thrusts more rapid. His hand was pumping his lover, fingers slipping easily along the semen slicked shaft. Suddenly, the body beneath him began to buck wildly, the cock in his hand jumped and the muscles surrounding his own shaft clenched tightly as thick creamy fluid jetted from his lover, covering his hand. His own orgasm came crashing down upon him, tearing through body and mind as he tightened his grip on his lover both physically and mentally.

When he finally came back to himself he was sprawled across the broad back, his softened penis still encased in its living sheath. He pulled out carefully and rolled to the side, gathering his bonded mate into his arms.

"So, *have* you figured it out yet?"

Katana smiled against the smooth column of MacLeod's throat, kissing the soft skin. There really was no need to answer... Connor MacLeod could read all the love and desire through their strengthened and now unbreakable bond.

THE END


End file.
